


the past is but a purple haze

by Meatball42



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Tower, Broken Bones, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Caretaking, Concussions, First Aid, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Mission, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-04 02:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20463437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: Bruce Snaps. The wish he makes isn't what it was supposed to be.





	the past is but a purple haze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GirlOfSaltAndStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlOfSaltAndStars/gifts).

_ ‘Bring back everyone who was killed,’ _was what Bruce was supposed to think.

_ ‘I wish we’d done this right from the start,’ _ was what he actually thought as he Snapped.

…

The QuinJet came down on the landing of Avengers Tower with an enormous crash. The screech of metal on metal was loud enough to make everyone cover their ears even through the reinforced glass walls. Bruce’s head was still ringing by the time Steve, with his game face on, was striding outside, Bucky following close on his heels.

“Jarvis, what’s going on in there?” he asked aloud.

“I have been locked out of the QuinJet’s surveillance capabilities,” Jarvis told him, sounding slightly down and concerned. “But from prior footage, there is reason to believe that Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanov may be in need of medical assistance.”

“Contact the med staff if you haven’t already,” Bruce ordered. “Angelique and Ross are on call tonight, right?”

“That is correct.”

Bruce hurried to the kitchen, where an extensively-stocked First Aid kit was kept in a lower cabinet. He brought it out to the lounge and checked the landing pad. The QuinJet was open, and Steve and Bucky had vanished, but no one was visible. He went past the kitchen for the linen closet and grabbed a stack of cloths and a few sheets and blankets.

By the time he’d set up a temporary medical zone on the wide couches of the lounge, Steve was helping Natasha limp inside. Clint was in Bucky’s arms and… laughing?

“Told you we’d make it! No worries!” the archer announced loudly. “For the rest of your dayyyys!”

Natasha grimaced and stumbled, Steve’s arm around her waist keeping her upright. The pair maneuvered around the coffee table where Bruce had set up his supplies and got Natasha situated on the sofa. She strangled a gasp at the change in position.

Bucky set Clint down on the other couch and tried to talk quietly to him. Thankfully, he managed to make Clint stop singing.

“Where are you hurt?” Bruce asked Natasha, pulling gloves on.

“Pretty sure my right fibula is cracked,” she reported, “fracture or a really big bruise on the ilium on that side. Something in my left hand is definitely broken. And I got stabbed.”

“That’s what you tell me first,” Bruce said, half joke and half serious. “Where is it?”

She waved to her side with the broken hand and nodded permission when Bruce went to tug up her shirt.

“Okay, this doesn’t look too bad,” Bruce said. He and Natasha both ignored Steve’s quiet intake of breath.

Clint did not. “Aww, Nat’s lost more blood than that in a bar fight,” he told them all, his head lolling to the side. “Hey, how about this. Natasha Romanov is so badass that when she bleeds, her enemies pass out from blood loss.”

“Is he drugged?” Bruce asked, wiping blood away from Natasha’s side.

“Concussion,” she said through gritted teeth. “Bad one, I guess.”

“Steve, can you boil some water?”

Steve nodded, squeezed Nat’s shoulder, and headed for the kitchen.

“Is she giving birth?!” Clint shouted. “You have to name this one after me! That’s the deal!”

“Shut him up,” Natasha snapped. She winced against Bruce’s fingers, but squeezed the back of the couch and held herself still.

“You hungry?” Bruce heard Bucky ask behind him.

“I would shoot you in the face for a hot dog right now.”

“Not necessary,” Bucky said wryly. “You get that?”

“You want beans with that?” Steve called.

_ “Yes, _ God I love my team,” Clint moaned. “Ow.”

Bruce was setting up the local anaesthetic for Natasha and only had the brainpower to make an inquiring noise.

“What hurts, Barton?” Bucky relayed.

“Oh, this one guy punched me in the ribs like, four time? Eight times? Same spot. Bastard.”

“Three times,” Natasha corrected quietly.

Bruce glanced at her. She seemed much too tired for his tastes, her eyes half-closing.

“He definitely hit me when you weren’t looking."

“I’m always looking,” Nat murmured.

“Natasha,” Bruce said sharply. When she didn’t reply, he abandoned what he was doing and knee-walked the two feet back to her couch. He took her unbroken hand and squeezed it. “Natasha!”

“I’m okay,” she said, opening her eyes again. “Just… really tired.”

Bruce relaxed. “Okay. If you’re alright with it, I can stitch this up while you’re asleep. We’ll wake you when the medical doctors get here.”

Natasha inspected his face carefully, then looked over her shoulder to where Bucky and Clint had finally fallen silent. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Bruce agreed. He squeezed her hand again, aware of the amount of trust he was being given.

A metal hand appeared behind Natasha’s head with a pillow and tugged her hair gently. With Bruce’s support on her upper back, she laid down.

“I wanna sleep too,” Clint whined, but quietly.

“You can sleep if you want,” Bucky told him. “You don’t have to stay awake for concussions anymore. So I’ve been told.”

Bruce hummed in the affirmative, watching Natasha’s face relax into sleep.

“Mm… nah. I’m too hungry.”

Steve returned from the kitchen with two big cups of juice. He handed one to Bucky and set the other down on the coffee table a safe distance away from Bruce’s supplies. He also had a coffee cup full of steaming water, which had Bruce casting him an appreciative look. 

Steve held the stitching supplies for Bruce and relayed information through Jarvis while Bucky kept Clint calm. He brought Clint a plate with a hot dog and a lake of beans a few minutes later.

“Eat slowly,” Bruce warned.

“I don’t throw up with concussions,” Clint bragged.

“I meant so I don’t throw up listening,” Bruce shot back.

Bucky and Steve laughed, and Clint ignored the request. Natasha slept soundly through it all.

Without knowing why, Bruce experienced a sudden feeling, a pulsing through his body just like a heartbeat. It said that everything was right with the world.

He didn't question it.


End file.
